


It's Hell Being Good

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Emotions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missy is trying, Old Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: Missy is really trying to be good, but it's hard.  She has a nice discussion with Bill that leads to The Doctor being quite cross with her.





	It's Hell Being Good

The skin she lived in still felt strange. It wasn’t as though this was the first time The Master was a woman, more because this was the first time she’d been a woman with feelings. Then there was the dreadful matter of that bastard conscience that seemed to be growing every damn day. It sounded annoyingly familiar and annoyingly Scottish. At least she was out of her cage. It was a cage of another shape, but an infinite one that she was mostly free to roam around. Of course the TARDIS remembered her and they hand’t had the best reunion at first. Missy’s backside was still bruised from where she was thrown across the engine room when she attempted to give the TARDIS a tune up. Once she’d realized Missy was actually doing good things, the TARDIS calmed down a bit. Now that she’d been here a few weeks, tinkering and adjusting, the TARDIS was purring for her. It seemed that all was forgiven, or at least that the TARDIS wasn’t actively trying to kill her. So that was nice. 

Now that Missy had one lady tamed, she intended to try for the second one that called this place home. Bill was an interesting woman and Missy understood why The Doctor was so enamored of her. She was unique even amongst his ever rotating line up of young and clever girls waiting to fawn over him every time he clicked his bloody screwdriver. He really needed that, thrived on the way those sweet young things would look at him in a moment of crisis. It was more than nauseating and Missy ambled through the corridor toward the library hoping to overcome the turning of her stomach at the thought of how many companions she’d watched The Doctor cycle through. It was rather like giving an irresponsible child a goldfish, and instead of teaching the child how to care for it, the child just got another when it died… and another and another and another every time one died… for a thousand years. She wondered if the TARDIS kept tally marks. She didn’t seem to like most of them either.

Bill was in the pool when Missy entered the library, swimming laps. Missy just watched for awhile. The girl was of the Sapphic persuasion, and while that didn’t usually interest her, Missy might make an exception to annoy The Doctor when she eventually let it slip a century from now. Bill was an embryo in the grand scheme of Missy’s life, so she wasn’t keen on the idea but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t if necessary. “OH!” Bill swallowed some pool water and choked a bit when she noticed Missy standing there. Missy just tried not to smile, walking around the edge of the pool toward the section of the library on physics. “How long you been standin’ there?” 

“Long enough to know your form is terrible and that your right leg is two centimeters shorter than your left.” Bill stood up, shifting from leg to leg with a most confused expression on her face. Missy turned her back so her own amusement would stay her secret. “You can continue to violate every rule of form,” Missy waved her hand dismissively as she thumbed through a few books. “I’m just looking for reading material.” 

“You’re a champion swimmer then,” Bill shot back. 

“Only twice, Olympics in Greece and Tokyo. Medaled in both.” Missy looked over her shoulder with a little smirk. Bill looked surprised but tried not to show it. She failed spectacularly and that time Missy let her amusement be known with a naughty smile. “I would show you my medals, but alas I am a chained woman.” She turned, leaning against the shelves and pouting in Bill’s direction. “I get to go to the door of the party, but alas I haven’t an invitation.” Missy shifted her weight and pulled the nearest book off the shelf to flip through. “You though… you’ve got the golden ticket my dear.” Bill gave her that confused, scrunched nose look she did when she was feigning confused. “You know it. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger. All of you do.”

“All of me?”

“No… Not you, you. You plural, dear. You, the young and lovely girlies he traipses through here.” She flipped her hand around a few times, indicating all over the TARDIS. “It’s a nasty little habit he acquired after his granddaughter stopped traveling with him blah, blah, blah,” she rolled her eyes and flopped down onto the nearest puffy chair. The Doctor was quite fond of those kind of chairs and Missy leaned over to unbutton her boots so she could settle in for awhile. “Surely you don’t think you’re the first.” And there it was, that slightly quivery lip that made Missy’s hearts speed. Oh suffering could be delicious, couldn’t it? She watched a moment longer before her attention returned to her boots, shucking them off with quick familiarity. “I’m sure he will remember _you_ though, dear.” She paused to find a page in her book before continuing, “for awhile at least.” 

“H… how many,” Bill asked as she came up the ladder out of the pool. Missy had her boots off and curled her legs up under her in the chair, book poised on the arm of the sofa. “What happens to them?” She knew the answer, Missy could tell, but she asked anyway. 

“You know… I’d forgotten The Doctor’s rule of us not speaking when he isn’t around to listen in. Rather controlling that.” Bill gave Missy the scrunched nose, annoyed look. The fact that Bill was even here alone with Missy spoke to the fact that she was confident in The Doctor’s restrictions on her. Usually the girl was quite jumpy. Humans could be tetchy about murder. “… though I really could use a cup of tea and I’ve only just gotten comfortable.” Missy pouted in Bill’s direction then nodded to her boots. “Perhaps I could bend that rule a teeny bit if you’ll fetch me a cuppa?” Then she really tried not to let the tightness in her jaw show when she said: “Please.” Bill’s wide mouth quirked up into that nervous little twitch of a smile and her head ducked just a touch. “Oh thank you, dear. I really didn’t want to put my boots on again and he’s been at it with the Legos in the hallway again.” 

“Bloody hate those things. I’ll go get the tea. Just… gimme a minute.” Bill kept looking at her and Missy just let her gaze hold onto the young lady’s, wondering what it was Bill thought she was seeing. An old teacher? A neighbor she lusted after? A beautiful murderess on the news? Maybe Bill could see Missy differently because of her exposure to The Doctor. Missy wished she could look inside the girl’s head to find out, but she feared _he_ would frown on that. Plus Missy had just done her nails and grey matter tended to really embed deep under the nail. 

She’d only gotten through a hundred pages by the time the girl came back, so Missy _knew_ she was distracted. “Tea… I didn’t know how you took it so I brought a tray.” 

The girl had put a long skirt over her bottom half though the top was still her swimsuit. Missy gave her a once over just to watch Bill’s cheeks pink up before her gaze turned to the tea tray. “Oh…lovely.” She was genuinely pleased. The girl brought one of Missy’s favorites, apricot and cream cake. “You are worth bending his rules for.” There, she’d mentioned The Doctor’s rules twice and the girl hadn’t flinched. That was good. That Bill was malleable about rules was a plus in Missy’s mind. Missy suspected that Bill wasn’t as good as he thought she was and rather wanted to find out why that was and if there was havoc she could nurture in Bill. “Two plates… presumptuous,” Missy clucked her tongue. “Shall I play mother?” Bill flinched and Missy tucked that away. 

“What are you reading?” Bill had this casual goofiness about her that Missy appreciated. It offset The Doctor well and sometimes you needed a change from that uptight old bastard. From her slightly hunched but interested posture to the way her hair was positively electrified, Missy enjoyed looking at Bill. 

“Darling girl, you’d never be able to comprehend even the title. Sweet of you to try, though.” Missy poured her own tea before Bill’s and gave her a wink. “We can have story time later if you’d like. Something light… Gravity’s Rainbow? The Anarchist’s Cookbook?” Missy cocked her head to the side as she set the tea pot down with a little clink. “No, let me guess… romance.” 

“No, thank you very much.” But Bill was blushing. 

“Ahhhh… I see,” Missy muttered to herself, head bobbing back and forth in mocking. “Sugar?” Missy had taken the lid off the bowl and poised one cube over Bill’s teacup. 

“Two please.” Missy plunked two cubes into Bill’s cup then four into her own. “Sweet tooth?”

“This particular form seems to have one, yes. Each regeneration has its quirks,” Missy shrugged as her spoon clinked gently around the edges of her cup. It was a soothing sound, one she could fall into given enough time. 

“Regeneration?”

“Oh, poor dear,” Missy reached over and took Bill’s hand in both of hers, “he really doesn’t tell you sweet things anything, does he?” Bill’s face tightened a little at _sweet things_ , but Missy continued. “When he is at the moment of death, staring the void in the eyes; when that crotchety old man finally lets go, there will be an enormous amount of energy expelled. I would not recommend being anywhere close when he goes nuclear unless you’d like to boil from the inside out then turn to dust. It’s usually spectacular because he wasn’t a terribly good student and frankly he’s a slow learner in a lot of regards. He can’t control himself. Sad, really. A dozen and one of him and he still goes off like a bomb. Watch from the inside. Quite entertaining.” 

“A dozen and… wait, he’s done this thirteen times.” 

“Depends on how you count.” She waved it off and picked up her teacup to have a sip. “So, when he goes boom, you want to be in the TARDIS with him outside. He’d tell you to make it rural or at least be sure that there aren’t people around. I am not so stringent.” Missy winked. “And when he’s done, drag his new carcass back into the TARDIS.… She’s going to take care of him.” Missy could feel the TARDIS purr a little against her feet. This TARDIS was quite possessive of him. She supposed it was because it was one of the older models. They could be quite temperamental, though they were also incredibly loyal. 

“New …” 

“Well what did you think regeneration meant, dear? Shall I dissect it for you? The prefix re, meaning again. Generate meaning to create… recreate. Reform. New man… or woman, who knows.” Missy waved her hands over her own form before picking up her teacup again. “He hasn’t yet. I think this one might be it, though. He’s finally caught up a bit.” Missy tapped her temple and Bill gave her a dirty look. Missy rolled her eyes and picked her book up. “I’ve told you your story, so go on. Shoo.” The physics book was snapped open and Missy waved her hand in Bill’s direction. “Scuttle off now.” 

“You haven’t told me about the other companions,” Bill pointed out. She leaned forward and cut the apricot cream cake before serving it on small plates. “Or eaten your cake.”

“Tempting me with sweets. Well played.” Missy shifted forward a bit to take the plate, giving Bill a wink just to watch her twitch. “Ask your question.” 

“… question?” 

“One question.”

“Three,” Bill tried to bargain. 

“It’s not a negotiation, girl.” Missy scoffed before slicing off a hunk of her cake with the edge of her fork. “Ask your bloody question.” 

“Fine. Why does he go through so many?”

“Well they die, don’t they,” Missy replied with a look she sincerely hoped conveyed the level of annoyance at the simplicity of the question. “I’m not going to recite them, but be assured they mostly either fade off into obscurity or they end up dealing with D.B.D.”

“DBD,” Bill asked.

“Death by Doctor… do keep up,” Missy sighed. “I thought you were smarter than most of them but clearly you’re dim as well. Your whole species is a loss. You’ve asked your question. Flutter off now. I’m sure you’ve got nothing important to do, people to annoy.”  


“Ya… actually, I do.” Then Bill leaned forward and smiled. “You.” She gave Missy a wink that sped her hearts’ beat. A challenge. 

“Probably not your brightest idea as he would really frown on my killing you. Also, I just cleaned this frock.” Missy pulled at her clothes with one hand. “Off with ya.” She flicked her fingers at Bill, eyes narrowing. 

“No, I’m not leaving.” She flopped back against the chair, arms crossed over her chest. 

“You really should.” Missy shifted to stand and heard a throat clear. “Oh, he’s been listening in on the girl talk. How original of you, Doctor. Do come through. Tell us all your important, manly thoughts on what we should do with our time.” 

“Bill, please leave.” His voice was tight and Missy kept the smile of amusement from her lips. Well, for a moment at least. 

“But Doctor, I…”

“Bill.” He had _that_ tone, the kind that made Missy’s hearts pound and her mind flood with just how good he was with that mouth of his. This most recent incarnation wasn’t the only one she’d kissed and lives upon lives ago they’d been fresh and beautiful lying under an orange sky figuring out how the world worked and what it felt like to touch another person. 

“Ya… fine. Whatever. Have your Time Lord party.”

“Lady,” Missy corrected. “Time Lady. You’re only referring to two of us, not an entire race Dear. Well then” She looked to The Doctor who flinched hard. “… actually since we _are_ the entire race she might actually be right. Ohhh grammar conundrum. The day grammar met philosophy.” Her eyes widened and Missy’s lips curled up. Bill was already heading for the door. “What, you don’t want to debate it? Sad what’s happening to the children today. No intellectual curiosity or stick to it ness.” Missy sighed before looking to a very pissed off set of eyebrows. “Done with your Lego set?”

“It’s very complicated,” he replied, more of a knee jerk response than anything. “What did you tell her?” 

“Nothing really,” Missy shrugged. Bill had left cake on her plate and Missy picked up Bill’s plate and exchanged it for her own empty one. “She asked far more than I answered. Curious thing, though. Do you think it’s inherent in women more than men of that race? There’s more of an existential curiosity with the ones you pair yourself to. Funny considering you failed every philosophy class we took.” His lips twitched along with his brow and Missy took that as a win. 

“I mean it. What did you tell her?”

She sighed and set her fork down, taking a long moment to chew the soft cake in her mouth then wash it down with some tea simply to watch his blood pressure climb as she held up her index finger and gave him a sweet smile. When she was finally done, Missy cleared her throat then wiped her lips daintily. “I simply informed her that she was not your first human. Not by a long shot. Are there tallies somewhere? I was wondering earlier but it seemed rude to just ask. But since you brought it up…” Not something she was _actually_ concerned with, but it made him twitch and THAT she did enjoy. “You’ve got to be at over a hundred at this point, right? More? Toss in the occasional other race and who knows?” Then she smiled. “I also told her what to do when you regenerate. A lesson your little playmates ought to get day one in this Box. The TARDIS told me you’ve destroyed chunks of her more than once regenerating in here. Dreadful. Really. Null score on that.” 

The Doctor sighed heavily, that brooding darkness on him heavy. “You shouldn’t have told her those things. Most of them never see me regenerate.” 

“Ah, yes, but none of your other forms has borrowed from its future. In my estimation, it’s far more likely that you go boom sooner rather than later. Do you think you could make your next regeneration a bit meatier through the middle? I like a bit of wiggle when I poke and this one’s skin and bones.” Missy waved in his general direction and he stalked over, hovering over her for a long moment. “Is this meant to scare me? Honestly you’re a bloody moron. Sit and have cake or piss off. I’m done with ye either way.” Missy picked up her book and he stayed hovering a few more moments before he walked around the other side of the table and sat in Bill’s former spot. He said nothing, just cut himself a slice of cake and topped off Bill’s teacup. She gave him credit. This version could keep his mouth shut if he wanted. She could not say the same of most other versions. 

Missy didn’t acknowledge him, just read and finished her cake and tea. He was incredibly quiet, impossibly so and she looked up to see his eyes with that edge of red and shiny that meant he was having feelings. Her urge was to pluck them out but Missy restrained herself. Her brow slowly rose in question and he looked away. “Don’t do that. Ugh. You’ve spent far too much time on Earth you sentimental twat. You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” She sighed heavily. “Why Doctor, what’s wrong? You look quite sad,” she mocked with robotic tones. 

“You’re right.” His voice was quiet, harsh. That got her blood pumping and Missy shifted in her seat to lean forward, closer. She could smell his fear, the worry building up under his skin. She wanted to lick his sweat and see if she could taste it. “I am more likely to … for it to happen unexpectedly now, and what _have_ I done to my future?” 

Missy slid silently to her bare feet, rounding the table to sit in his lap. He looked up, stunned. “Frankly,” her arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing tight as she wiggled a little too much just to watch him shift uncomfortably. “You are not going to know until it happens and there is no way to prepare short of jumping into your future timeline, which you’d need to send one of us to find, and I’m the only one you could send. Therefore, not going to happen as you keep me shackled to her.” Missy nodded at the TARDIS who made a rude noise. “So… since you cannot alter it or control it, embrace it. Who knows what your next form will be?” His arm wrapped around her waist. He wasn’t pulling away and that nearly made her loose the rhythm of her patter, but she continued without missing a beat. “Perhaps you’ll have one eye instead of two or none at all but your nose will be spectacular.” She bopped him on the tip of it with her finger. “Or maybe you’ll be quite short or misshapen in some way, but it won’t matter because this is what matters.” She took his head in both her hands and brought her lips to his forehead, kissing it. If anyone asked, she’d tell them it never happened, but Missy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her fingers sinking into his hair. 

His hand moving over her side brought Missy back from that indulgent moment and she pulled away, hopping to her feet and collecting her boots. “I wonder if you’ll be blue. Blue would be a good color. Match her,” Missy nodded at the TARDIS. “I think she’d like it.” She heard him get up and felt him cross, a wide hand on resting on her shoulder. If something in this multiverse of time and space could shake her right now, it was _those_ fingers closing on her shoulder. For a split second, less than the time it took to blink, Missy’s hand moved toward his. Then she shifted fast and walked the other way, letting her mouth run as she put physical distance between them. Nonstop garbage intended to insult and infuriate spewed from her mouth until she was at the door and he was irate. Good, that was better. Furious was far safer for her than those fingers on her shoulder and the disgusting way that made her feel. The Doctor fuming at her across a room was just right and it relaxed Missy in a way that seemed to infuriate her even more. At the rate he was going she was going to sleep like a baby. 

She slipped from the library and headed to hers, feeling so pedestrian and unclean walking barefoot down the corridor. The boots in her hand and she realized that that was how he’d know he’d gotten to her. Damn. Missy scrubbed herself clean when she got to her room and crawled into bed, leaning against the wall with her covers drawn to her chest. The feelings this form had were more intense, more difficult sometimes to comprehend, but she wouldn’t give that up for anything. Missy had far more perspective now than she’d ever had, which was both a blessing and a curse. When she looked at her works, at her life, she saw sheer hell and all the pain she’d rained down on innocents. He said she was supposed to feel bad about that. Missy thought maybe she did, but even if that was the case, she didn’t know that it would be recognizable after all these years. 

So she cried. That happened a lot more now, and while he thought it was a trick to get to him, it usually happened on its own with little input from her. Like right now, she really shouldn’t feel bad about talking to Bill, about giving her a glimpse into her future. But Missy felt bad that she’d upset him which was because she told Bill… so didn’t she actually regret telling Bill? Her brain was pounding the usual rhythm, something she’d learned to ignore since her last form. Still, it was there and when she was overly feely and emotionally bloody minded, it got louder. Missy didn’t like having regrets. Regrets weren’t usually part of her vernacular. “Killing something would really help me clear my mind,” she grumbled to herself. “But no… ye canna kill anything,” she echoed his voice. “Party pooper.” 

Missy rolled over onto her side, looking at the wall of books. The Doctor was granting her far too much rope to hang herself with and Missy had to stay constantly mindful that she was, in fact, on a leash. Every time she got a little too sure of herself, one of his boundaries would pop up and she’d be back in her place at heel. Missy despised it. She understood it, but she despised it. Plus, if it were him under her heel, the servitude would be far different. Far… _far_ different. She heard a quiet knock on her door and ignored it. It happened twice more and by the fourth time she was ripping the door open and ready to peel the face off of whomever was on the other side. “Truly, you must be so eager to donate your body to my next project.” She reached out and he swatted her hand away. “What do you want?” 

“To talk. Come sit with me?” 

“Afraid I’ve got to wash my hair tonight. Call another night.” She closed the door but his foot was in it. Knowing that, she gave it a good push and laid her weight into it a moment before pretending to realize he was being hurt. “I’ve a headache. Can’t whatever this is wait? I’ve had enough lectures for six regenrations already this week alone. Just wait until tomorrow to climb up on your moral high horse to lecture me, alright? Go play with your Legos or review basic TARDIS maintenance. I’m not going to be here doing your grunt work forever. Eventually my term will be up and you’ll have to let me go.” An expression of pain played across his face and Missy had the urge to lean in and lick him. “Well? What do you want? I haven’t got all night.” She planted her hand on her hip and glared, daring him to say a word out of turn. 

“You ran.” Then he was pushing in, pressing himself to her long enough to make his way into her quarters, looking around for the first time. The TARDIS had taken care of her, a large plush bed, shelves upon shelves of books, work benches, and a luxurious shower and bath. It was all in tones of purple, black, and grey with warm lights throughout. She was actually pleased with the way it turned out. “You didn’t even put your boots on.” 

“I’m quite mad. I do these things,” Missy sighed as she walked over to the bar tucked into the corner. “Remember, bananas.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Is this what you’ve burst into my room to tell me, that you think I’ve run from you simply because I didn’t put my boots back on? Look at them,” she nodded to the boots in question where they sat near the door. “There are a million buttons. Once they come off, they’re off.” She turned back to her drink, pouring a tall glass of gin with a splash of tonic and a couple of limes. “I suppose you’ll want something like chocolate milk or a jammy dodger.” She lost the last word somewhere in her throat when his hand touched her shoulder again. This time Missy had nowhere to run. His fingers closed and she had to keep herself from saying or doing something utterly stupid. Crazy was fine, stupid was not. She was attempting to get their friendship back and the last thing either of them needed was to develop a feeling for each other. Yuck. 

Still, she couldn’t deny the zips of sensation that ran through her nerves when he touched her. Since their days at the academy anytime Theta touched her those sparks would fly. Back then they’d been young and daft, rolling around like rutting animals in the private study rooms… also on a few professors’ desks. His thumb moved over her collar, Missy’s eyes fluttering shut. “You’re scared.” She bit her bottom lip because he stepped in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling Missy back into him. “That’s normal with change.” Missy didn’t trust hugs, especially ones from behind, but she pressed herself back into him, the heat from his body transferring easily to her through the thin fabric of her blouse. She’d long since shucked her jacket and Missy could clearly outline the span of his hand on her waist, the way his arm tightened as his lips brushed the shell of her ear. A soft sound crept its way up her chest as his lips touched that sensitive skin. “You’re safe here.” 

And if that wasn’t a punch in the gut, she didn’t know what was. He just held on for a long time, her with her arms slack at her sides. Every emotion in the universe felt like it was flowing through her and she had no idea which one to pick and follow. That left her frozen and scared just like he suggested. She _hated_ it when he was right. But he just held on and eventually her hand moved to his forearm, fingers shaking just a little. “You came her to tell me that?” His hand was big, spanning her whole hip, and Missy let hers creep down to touch his bare skin, just the back of his hand, but still. Now it was his turn to shudder. 

“That … well … and this.” Then he turned her slowly, that same strong hand at her waist holding her firmly. The other came up, gently tipping Missy’s face to his before he kissed her. Her first instinct was to rush it, to pull him close and press her tongue past his lips. Instead he took control, slowing her down every time she pushed too fast for his tastes. By the time he pulled back, her hearts were pounding and Missy wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by the flush in her cheeks. “I want my friend back, too.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and the tears were there again. “It’s been so long.” His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before breaking off. “I should go.” 

It took every bit of nerve she had to reach out and catch his hand as he passed. False bravado was one thing, mania was another. This, though… this was sincere. Sincere was hard. It was a feeling deeper than she’d had in ten lifetimes and the last time she’d had it, it was for him. She had to take the chance or she'd build up another regret. “Stay.” She nodded to the couch. “Sit with me. Read to me like you did back then.” She looked hopeful and while it took him a minute, eventually The Doctor nodded and moved over to her shelves. Missy took half her drink fast then the other and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. He came over and she slotted in next to him like it hadn’t been thousands of years since they’d last done this. He read and she took it in, her hand resting in the middle of his chest as she listened to his hearts and the way his voice rolled around in his chest. 

She shifted, resting a pillow on his lap then her head. Missy stretched out and his hand shifted to her head. They used to sit outside in the tall grass and do this when her head would pound as a young boy. The headaches had gotten far better with time, but there were still days where she’d be in blinding pain from what had been done to her mind generations back. The Doctor read as he carefully pulled the pins out of her hair, setting them on the arm of the sofa. When he had them all, his fingers sunk into her hair, gently massaging her scalp with sure fingers. He remembered exactly where the tension built for her, that strong thumb focusing on the place where shoulder met neck just under the collar of her shirt. Missy let out a hiss and he continued, making the muscle submit before he moved back to stroking through her hair. His short nails scraped over her scalp until Missy drifted off. Her mind focused on how beautiful Theta’s eyes had always been, how expressive and lively. It was those eyes, set after set of them, that she fell asleep to, all looking at her. She wondered what each regeneration would think of this, but what really mattered to her was what this regeneration of The Doctor thought. Every face he’d had were all the same person to Missy, but she preferred this one over many of them. He had a fire, an anger she hadn’t seen in him in quite some time. He hurt now deeper than he ever had, and he longed for connection to someone else like him. Missy knew she could give that to him if she tried hard enough. She might have to find alternate ways to exorcise her demons, but if it meant she’d get back to him, then she’d try. She’d fail a lot, probably, but he’d forgive her. That was what he tended to do. It might take time between tries, but she would. He made her _want_ to be good. For him. Only, ever for him.


End file.
